Wanted
by Dan Breaddy
Summary: All she wanted was to be wanted. Someone to fill the void left by Tom, the void for a friend. Ginny battles inner demons and Draco wonders why. DG
1. Strong

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Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of J.K. Rowling.

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She doesn't fit in, she feels so alone

She's in too much pain to survive on her own

The hurt she can't handle overflows to a knife

She writes on her arm; wants to give up her life

Each day she goes on is the day that she's brave

Fighting the lie that giving up is the way

Each moment of courage, her own life she saves.

When she throws the pills out, a hero is made.

~ Hero _by Superchic[k]_

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Wanted

~

Strong

She shouldn't have been surprised. She really shouldn't have. She had been ignored for the last six years, why would today be any different. She scowled and scolded herself for her self-pity-party that she was holding in the North astronomy tower that night.

Being ignored by every student in the school was something that she thought she had gotten used to. Everytime she walked down the hall, she stared at the floor rather than the chattering students, muttering quietly to herself. She was surrounded all around by lively students but still, she felt strangely isolated. They refused to meet her gaze, overlooking her bent copper head, and averted their eyes when she dared to look at them.

Her world was dull and gray. There was no dramatic color in her world, no difference in hues. She was no one; nothing about her was remarkable enough to be noticed. Everything around her was gray. The students varied in their hue, the walls were black and the torchlight burned white.

Ginny was strong. She was convinced that she didn't need any of her fellow students' help, not that they would ever voluntarily help her. She was convinced she didn't need any friends, convinced she was better without loyalties and attachment.

But sometimes, especially on those nights during the weekend, just like this one, she did feel lonely. She wanted someone to talk to, wanted someone to listen to her. Most of all, she just wanted someone to want and appreciate her.

The sky was black tonight. It looked like a sheet of coal-colored silk in the sky, littered with small diamonds. They glittered and twinkled, and she eyed them wearily. There was a full moon tonight, and it hung like a brilliant silver orb, a round mirror. It shone down and flooded the earth with white, heavenly light. It was blinding, and Ginny wasn't sure if she could keep her eyes open, but, at the same time, it was spellbinding and beautiful, and she knew that she didn't have enough willpower to turn or close her eyes. The moon hung so close tonight.

She sat against a section of the stone wall with her knees against her chest and her long, freckled arms wrapped around them snugly and sighed. There was no awning on this tower, no shadows to hide under. Nothing was hidden.

Her mind began to wander as pictures, thoughts and ideas popped into her head. In her mind's eye, she could picture her brother's smiling face as he and Harry and Hermoine walked past her, laughing happily at some inside joke. She felt a stab of pain inside her, jealous that her brother had found some good and close friends that he could spend his time with.

'That's because he didn't mess up in his first year,' a tiny voice said smugly in her mind. She drew her knees closer to her body.

Mess up. That's what she was. The Weasley failure. The silent one; the stupid one; the hostile one.

No. She shook her head. She couldn't talk about herself like this. She wouldn't. She was strong; she was a Weasley. She didn't need to be heard, she didn't have to be smart, and no one could force her to be friendly. She was not a mess up. She was not a failure; she just hadn't succeeded yet.

__

Yet.

"Still," she said to her knees. "It'd be nice to feel appreciated." She sighed and rested her head on her two circular bones, blinking away tears. "Sometimes, I feel like I could just _die _and nobody would notice poor, daft, forlorn Virginia Weasley. Not even her own brother."

"If that happened, then I would have to do a headcount, and sort through my students list to find out which one of you was missing."

"Thank you for affirming my point," she answered grimly.

When it dawned on her that she was no longer alone in her little hideaway of solitude, she lifted her head and looked at the speaker.

A figure was bent over a telescope pointed at the night sky, playing with a small knob. He turned around and looked at her.

"Contemplating suicide, are we Weasley?" Malfoy asked. Of all people.

Ginny automatically put on a scowl. But secretly, she smiled. Someone knew her name; someone was talking to her and looking at her, not through her, even if the 'someone' was Malfoy. "Making my pros-and-cons list in my head right now," she said evenly. She stretched out her long legs as her muscles began to cramp.

It was cool on the clear November night. Her cheeks, having lost their source of body heat, felt the loss of warmth instantly. She rubbed her fingers together to keep them warm.

"Make sure you add 'Twinkies' to your list of cons," Malfoy said as he turned around to look at the telescope again. He wore a pair of black jeans, baggy from the waistband down, and a black button down shirt. His pulled back hair elevated the aura of nobility. It was bright against the black sky, almost the color of the far-away stars. His pale skin seemed even paler in the darkness, but had a healthy glow to it. A simple silver fang dangled out of a hole in one ear. In his left hand was a rolled cylinder of paper, which she recognized as today's _Daily Prophet_.

Malfoy was one of the Slytherin prefects, much to rest of the student's, save the Slytherins, disgust. Some other prefects and even the Head Girl approached Dumbledore, who had been given the task of naming the prefects of each of the four houses. Dumbledore knew that Malfoy would do something that would benefit the school, maybe something unsightly, maybe something noticeable. The school wondered what it would be, and waited for him to prove himself. In the meantime, he was most arrogantly annoying about it, and took his responsibilities lightly, taking points from the younger students instead of pointing them in the correct direction, and abused the majority of his privileges.

"Twinkies?" Ginny asked, as he screwed the cap off the front of the expensive telescope. It was the color of red wine, bigger and longer than any telescope she had ever seen. There was a smaller pipe, curved upward, attached to it of the same color. The instrument stood on a sturdily built black tripod. The entire thing gleamed. Ginny admired it from afar.

"Yes," Draco said, opening the paper, a happy, childish look of excitement on his face. "Twinkies. Delicious, small, yellow cakes with cream in the center. They come pre-wrapped in a package of two…" He looked at her, and when he saw her blank expression, he blinked. "They're a muggle thing, Weasley. Surely, if I'd thought of _anyone_, you would know what I'm talking about."

Ginny shook her head, but a Twinkie sounded good. "They're a muggle thing?" she asked finally, confused. "I thought you didn't like muggles. I thought you thought that they were the scum of the earth."

Malfoy scanned the front cover of the Prophet, and then opened the paper. "I do. I don't like muggles. I never said anything about not liking muggle _things_," he pointed out.

"I don't understand," she said finally.

"I didn't think you would." His gray eyes turned to the third page of the paper. She bit her lip. Negative thoughts flooded her head, fueled by Malfoy's remark. He didn't think she'd understand. Why? Was it because she was too stupid? That she wasn't learned enough to understand a mere Muggle desert?

Malfoy looked back at Ginny. Her lips were contorted in a frown, her face was wrinkled, her brow furrowed and her eyes squinted in a painful grimace. He could tell that she was not at ease, and had not been for a while. He almost felt pity for her; she looked so alone sitting by herself on the stone wall. He would have laughed at her and her misfortune had he not seen the same expression on people that he knew had been sent to St. Mungos. Whatever it was that was going on in her head was more serious than a simple self-esteem issue.

Her copper colored hair fell over her shoulders and trailed down her arm, long and in need of a trim, but she paid no attention. An inner battle was waging in her head, and he wondered who was winning.

Thoughts raged on in her head, each one telling her she wasn't smart enough, or pretty enough, or worthy enough. Her small, positive voice of strength that carried her through each day was slowly wearing away, become quieter and quieter as the insults became louder. They had a distinct voice, but distinctly haunting and frightening, that Ginny was pained to listen to.

Tom.

He told her that she wasn't good enough to have friends; that she wasn't deserving of any. Everyone else had proven themselves and rightfully earned theirs, but she had nothing to give. They would all be ashamed to call Ginny a friend anyway, so they avoided her.

His whispering in her ear as she walked down the hallways said that everyone hated her for what she had done. Not bring him to life, almost to the point of full power, but had nearly killed _Harry Potter_, and that Harry himself, no matter what he may have told her, would never forgive her and would never forget about the incident, either.

Her breathing quickened as if she was about to begin to cry. But she couldn't cry, Tom said that it was unacceptable to cry, to show weakness. He said that if she wanted friends, she had to be strong. She shook her head.

She was strong, but not for Tom. She was strong, not so she could acquire friends. Ginny was strong for Ginny, and Ginny alone. She did not need Tom. She did not need friends. She didn't have to hear those insults. She relaxed, and they slowly passed away until she was sure that she couldn't hear the monsters' hissing whispers. One day, they, all of them, and their demon lord, would leave her for good. Until then, she was content in keeping them away for a time.

Ginny was strong.

Malfoy was looking at her strangely, a look of confusion and fear. She breathed deeply and glared defiantly back at him as if it was his fault. It wasn't though.

"Don't do it," he said.

She was confused. " 'It' being the antecedent to…?" she asked, trying to sound smarter than she knew.

"Suicide."

"I wasn't going to – not tonight, anyway - but thanks for the advice." She raised her eyebrows. "I'll hold it close to my heart."

"I'm serious. Suicide's only for the weak."

"Are you saying I'm weak?" she snapped.

"No, I'm saying you're stro – not weak," he said. "Look, Weasley, I'm a prefect. It's my duty to advise potential suiciders not to kill themselves."

"Looks like you're taking your task seriously – for once," she added in a mean voice. He glared at her in annoyance.

"Fine, go ahead then. Kill yourself. I won't miss you." She almost expected him to add on _'No one will'_, but it never came. It surprised her.

"I won't miss you either."

"More power to you Weasley, more power to you," he said in an occupied tone.

At the bottom of the fourth page, Malfoy came across the article that he had been searching for. It was a small schedule, listing the planets that would make their way across Earth's sky for the month of November. His left finger trailed down the list of dates.

****

18 November: Mars

He folded the paper and placed it under the crook of his arm. He ran his free hand through his hair, and it spread out like an upside down fan.

"What are you doing out here?" Ginny asked. He glanced back at her. For a second, he was about to tell her to mind her own business.

"Would you like to see?"

They were both shocked by what he said. Where had such a preposterous question appeared? Surely, not him! Malfoy resolved to bite his tongue from now on until she left.

Ginny blinked. Yes, she would like to see what Malfoy was looking for. If she told him, would he deny it to her? Certainly he would, he was playing her to get a good laugh. She looked back at him, his bent figure peering into the telescope. She was right.

She opened her mouth to retort a nasty answer when he straightened back up. "Go ahead and look if you want," he said, looking at her with placid gray eyes.

"Why would – oh. Um… ok, if it's ok with you," she said, biting her lip. He nodded and stepped aside. She stood up and wiped the pebbles and dust off of her pants and took a step forward.

'It must be getting late,' she reasoned. 'Malfoy must be too tired to be rude.'

She bent down and closed one eye. There was a hole in the sky, the size of a Sickle and the same shade of her hair. It took her breath away.

"Is that Mars?" she asked, still looking in the sky. Malfoy nodded, and when he realized she couldn't see him nodding, said, "Yes."

She admired it. She admired the red, rusting color of the planet, how deep the color was, and how bright it shone. She admired the small pink and white places in the poles, their glossiness and luster, like a mirror or frozen lake. It was so brilliant against the sky, the black and the glittering white.

"It's beautiful," she said, straightening back up again. Malfoy was looking at the heavens, in the direction where the telescope was pointed. When Ginny strained her eyes, she could make out a bright star, brighter and closer than the rest. She assumed it was Mars.

Malfoy moved over and took her spot at the telescope. Ginny drew her worn coat tighter around her.

"So…" she said, trying to make conversation, "like astronomy?" Malfoy grunted a 'yes' in response.

"Why?" she said, looking straight up. The vast number of stars looking down upon her made her feel dizzy.

"It's very humbling, to study them," he said, straightening up. He rubbed a hand up and down his back with lengthy, stiff fingers.

"I'll say," Ginny agreed. "I feel so small now, smaller than I felt before." Malfoy was silent for a short while before he responded.

"Why's that?" He paused as she brought her head down to look at him. "Why do you feel so small?" She blushed, struggling to think of a sufficient answer without bearing her soul. "Um… because I think about how tiny and insignificant I must be when I compare myself to the cosmos and the heavens. It reminds me that I'm only human, and not to think of myself higher than others," she said with a smile. She would not allow herself to think another thought, afraid of what would happen if she did.

Malfoy gave her an odd look, his eyebrows raised and the corners of his lips indented into his cheeks in a half-smirk. She blushed and looked at the telescope.

"Is this the school's telescope?" she asked, saying the first thing that came to mind. Malfoy snorted. "Hardly," he said.

"It's yours?" she asked, pushing her hair behind her shoulders.

"More or less," he said with a shrug. Her eyes traveled to the small stone barrier that separated the two from the free-fall to the ground. She noticed how smooth and worn the slate colored stones were from age and weather. They were strong, but welcoming and not intimidating. Ginny longed to be like that. "It's my father's, but God knows he never uses it," he said, admiring the telescope. Ginny nodded slightly. Malfoy silently toyed with the idea that she was jealous of such an expensive and powerful telescope like his, but quickly discarded it. He knew she was not the type to submit to jealousy.

"So…" Malfoy trailed off, looking at her. "Did you have a good day?"

Ginny blinked her eyes slowly and cocked her head to the side. "Hardly," she answered. Her hair tumbled in defiant and exotic waves down her shoulders. Malfoy looked at them and admired the color. It was the same color as his favorite planet, Mars.

"No?" he answered in surprise. "I thought you Weasleys were the happy-go-lucky kind of family, always having a good, if not great, almost perfect, day and smiling at everyone 'til they knock your teeth out."

The demons that were subtly laced in Malfoy's words attacked Ginny's sanity inside her head. 'Why aren't you like that?!' they demanded to know. 'Why aren't you like the rest of your 'happy-go-lucky' family, Ginny?' They supplied the answer for her. 'It's because you're not like them. You're the black sheep, the outcast. They're _ashamed _to have you in their family. They don't like you, but they tolerate you. They can't wait until next year, when you'll finally be out of their care.'

Slowly, she brought her hands up to her ears and plugged it as if she could plug out their voices, their jeers, their abusive words. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Malfoy looked at her, trying to imagine what could be going on in her head. He had seen insane people before, tortured by his father under his father's wand. They would lie on the ground in spasms, kicking themselves, pulling their hair, and yelling for an end. His father laughed when they did that. He did too.

But Malfoy was, in the tiniest bit, a little frightened. Ginny Weasley had touched evil and lived. She had an inner strength that was impressive and awe-inspiring, urging her to live each day. But now she was boarderlining insanity. She was cracking.

At the same time, he was both intrigued and perplexed by her. What was it that was tormenting her? He resolved to find out.

Her brown eyes bore straight ahead, but Malfoy could tell that she was not looking at him. Her breathing quickened and one hand now covered her ear. The other, he noticed, was clenched in a fist.

She shook her head, her red hair moving from side to side. He could see her lips moving, struggling to form words. She screamed furiously. "They're not ashamed. I'm not like them! I don't have to be for them to love me!" Her eyes were squinted shut, and she was breathing hard. In a moment, it passed, and she looked up at him and blushed.

"I – I better be going," she said, biting her lip. She did not dare meet his eyes. She was sure that he had a superior grin on his face, a malicious flash in his eyes. Instead, he had stepped away, his hands out in front of him. He watched her leave hurriedly with her head bent down as if she had been scolded, and she slammed the heavy wooden door shut behind her.

Numbly, he turned to the telescope and began to take it apart. He had expecting to view an exceptionally bright Mars tonight, but instead he had seen something brighter and more mysterious, but all the more intriguing.

A glimpse of Ginny Weasley's soul.

****

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Author's Note: of course, it'll be continued! This isn't a one-shotter, but I doubt it'll be very long.

Please review. I prefer long reviews over short reviews, but short reviews over no reviews.


	2. Disquietude

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Disclaimer: Characters and places are property of J.K. Rowling and are used without permission. "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent," was quoted by former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt.

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I wear this disguise I'm just your average Jane

The super doesn't stand for model

But that doesn't mean I'm plain.

If all you see is how I look, You miss the superchick within.

And I christen you Titanic: underestimate and swim.

I've got the rifle, gonna be myself I've got the rifle, gonna be myself

And I'll be everything that I want to be

I am confidence in insecurity

I am a voice yet waiting to be heard

I'll shoot the shot

****

BANG

That you'll hear around the world

I'm a one-girl revolution

Some people see the revolution but most only see the girl

I can lose my hear earned freedom if my fear defines my world

I declare my independence from the critics and their stones

I can find my revolution

I can learn to stand alone

And I'll be everything that I want to be

I am confidence in insecurity

I am a voice yet waiting to be heard

I'll shoot the shot

****

BANG

That you'll hear around the world

I'm a one-girl revolution

- One Girl Revolution by Superchick

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Wanted

~

Disquietude

Malfoy gaped. Somehow, even with her bright, copper-colored hair and tall, lanky figure, Ginny Weasley managed to blend and disappear within the crowd, the hordes of chatty students, released from the last class of the day. She was like a glimpse in the corner of his eye, never sure if he actually saw her or not. She was fleeting and never still, like grains of sand falling through his fingers. Even if he tried, he could never catch all of them as they tumbled to the ground.

He sat down in the almost deserted school courtyard, drawing his robe tighter around him. A frigid gust made him shiver, daring him to leave and go seek shelter and warmth, instead of staying in the open courtyard. He sat his bag down beside him. Under him, the stone was freezing like ice. It was a chilly December afternoon, the sky bright with the sun overhead, but no warmth on the ground. Weather did not apply to logic.

"Sorry," he heard a voice mutter behind him. It was soft, but he could hear it above all the other loud voices. It was a whisper of an apology, almost breathed rather than said. He twisted his head behind him.

Ginny Weasley stood, looking down at a mess on the concrete floor. Her things were scattered around her at her feet. She was biting her lip and her cheeks were tinged a deep pink from embarrassment. A girl with blonde hair stood opposite from her, a look of scathing dislike on her face. Her arms were crossed in a look of untouchability. Deliberately stepping on Ginny's parchment, she ripped it into two and walked away to where her friends stood, laughing like hyenas. But not before she whispered into Ginny's ear, "Bitch".

Ginny still stood there, staring at the ground. Several students who walked past scoffed at her misfortune and laughed. He did not. None of them offered sympathy. None of them bent down to help her pick them up.

Her eyes had gone blank, apathetic and cold, threatening to roll back into her head. Her breathing picked up, desperate gulps of air that moved her shoulders back and forth. Her arms were rigid at her side, her hands clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists. In her mind, she replayed the scene over and over again, the sound of the first page of her Defense Against the Dark Arts term paper being stepped on and torn, over and over. She would have to start over and rewrite it on a new parchment, and the entire project was due tomorrow. Her lip began to tremble and the tips of her ears became ghostly white. Tears of frustration sprung up in her eyes. She felt like dropping to the floor and sobbing, but she remained still, remained standing.

"What a pathetic swot," one of the girls muttered, loud enough to be clearly perceptible to the others. They giggled maliciously and glared with murderous eyes at Ginny's back. Malfoy caught a glimpse of the badges on their chests. Ravenclaws.

Malfoy wasn't too keen on Ravenclaws. Their attitude annoyed him, always acting too busy to help a fellow student, even one of their own, but never too busy to show off. They flaunted their good grades, wishing wistfully, and loudly, that others could be like them, and picked on anyone who was not up to their standards.

"She's a retard. A mental case."

"No, look at her. She looks like she's being possessed."

"She _was _possessed. Probably talking to You-Know-Who right now."

"She's so strange. Doesn't belong here."

"Yeah, she belongs in St. Mungos for the Criminally Insane."

"She _belongs_ in the loony bin, with the rest of the freaks like her."

"She's such a queer. What a freak."

Ginny was not dumb or deaf. She heard every word those girls said, every comment they made. She could feel the arrows stab her back with every look they sent in her direction, every sentence that floated up to her ear. She was their entertainment; she was their target.

Mental demons swarmed to her, not with multiple eyes or slobbering mouths but with blonde hair, blue eyes, and superior looks. They condemned her not because she was ugly, which she was not, not because she was stupid, which she was not, but because she was different from them, from any student at Hogwarts, save Harry and Neville. Because they did not know, and because they were afraid.

They tore apart her confidence, her self-respect, her reputation, shredding her work for their amusement. They labeled her with their stamp of disgust, their mark. They taunted her. They burned her with their actions, with their comments. They tortured her. They laughed at her, slapped her across the face with their stinging words, their fresh wounds slashing across old scars of past words. She flinched and recoiled. The girls laughed more, and harder. A deeper laugh, one that echoed inside of Ginny's head, joined in.

One of the girls caught sight of Malfoy and smiled coyly at him, expecting him to play along in their little game of Cat-and-Mouse, a game that he was particularly good at. He took a glance at Ginny, who stood alone and utterly still, and he felt sick.

Malfoy wondered where the Ginny that he had met in the Astronomy Tower had vanished to, because the one that stood in the hall was frightened and silent. She was not the outspoken, defiant, and mildly scary Weasley he had stumbled across in the Tower. The one here was like a statue with a look of utter fear, as if the Ravenclaws laughing behind her were not girls but large, carnivorous dogs.

And maybe in her mind, they _were _dogs, snarling at her and barking loudly in her ears. Maybe in her mind, they were surrounding her, encircling her, snapping in her direction. Maybe in her mind, the only thing that kept them from tearing her apart was a word from their leader, the head wolf.

He grabbed his bags and began to walk; sauntering around the stone bench to where Ginny stood.

__

No, Ginny told herself as resolutely as she could. _I don't have to hear this. No, I do not have to submit to them. No, I do not have to believe them. No one can make me feel inferior without my consent. They have no proof, no accusation. They have no basis and no backing. They are humans like me, nothing more and nothing less._

A body fell into Ginny's line of vision and the girls' giggles ceased abruptly behind her. The laughing faded away and she blinked, her vision becoming clearer. A bent body was gathering her things in front of her. Someone was helping her pick up her things. He grabbed one half of the ripped parchment and rubbed it between his fingers. Had it been any thicker, it would have been salvageable, but had it been any thicker, she would have gone without a schoolbook, inkpot, or robe.

He stood up and shook the metallic white hair out of his eyes.

Malfoy.

"Here. I don't think that you'll be able to repair this with magic, it's pretty damaged no thanks to that wench over there." He jerked his head forward with a look of disgust over his handsome facial features. "You might be able to copy and transfer it to another parchment, I don't know if you've learned how to do that in Charms yet, we just mastered it in class last month." He paused, thinking. "I'll do it for you then," he decided firmly.

Ginny stole the things out of Malfoy's hand and held them close, crossing her arms over them and clutching them as if for life.

"Malfoy," she hissed. "What are you doing? You could be seen!"

He raised his eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth upturned as if she amused him greatly. His expression responded "So?" Yet he remained silent.

"What are you doing out here?!" she asked.

"Picking up your things for you," he said breezily.

"I didn't need help," she said through clenched teeth.

"Yes, yes you did need help picking up your things, since you're obviously too occupied to pick them up yourself." When she remained silent, he continued. "Was it the voices in your head again?"

She blushed a deep red, then paled severely, to the extent it appeared her skin was a pale pink, like an albino. "Shut up about that, Malfoy," she whispered, her voice frantic and frightened.

"You shouldn't let what they're saying get to you." She glowered at him for a moment, her eyes blazing and cheeks red and splotchy, and then was calm.

"I forgive you, for you know not what you say," she said in an emotionless voice.

Malfoy fell silent, trying to figure out what she meant.

"Stop being nice!" she whispered angrily to him. He looked at her in surprise and amusement.

"Who says I'm being nice?" he asked her. When she didn't respond, he continued. "I was being courteous."

"It's 'nice' any way you word it, Malfoy, so face the music and piss into the wind. And I don't need your pity or your help." She looked at him in the eye one more time, then turned around. The girls who had made fun of her so cruelly stopped whispering and looked at her, a look of mirth and loathing on their faces.

Ginny forced herself to smile with feigned sweetness when scowling could have been so much easier, but less effective. "I forgive you guys and your small self-confidence for feeling that you have to pick on me to make yourselves feel a little bit taller than you are. I'm sorry you're like that."

She turned around and walked away, weaving around Draco. She did not look back at them. The only sound in the stone hall was the sound of her clicking heels against the floor.

****

Aww… isn't that sweet? Little Ginny needs a knight in shining armor to rescue her from the big bad Ravenclaw girls because she freezes and chokes. The whispered thought was so convincing that Ginny thought Tom was standing behind her. Her mind was dark and foggy, with a silhouetted figure in the back, with Tom's physique. She was walking on autopilot. His mocking voice became colder. **Though it was never an extreme challenge – ha, not even that - to make you choke, Ginny. You always wore your heart on your sleeve and your emotions in your eyes.**

__

Go away, Tom. I'm only human.

****

Humans are pathetic. Just like you.

__

You're human too.

****

I am a wizard. I am above a human.

__

Are you saying that you are perfect?

****

Almost.

__

Then you are human.

****

Not as weak as you.

__

Showing weakness is a strength that shows you're not afraid. And – and that you're tough.

****

Who told you that, your daddy_?_

At least I had one.

The figure intensified, and the aura of darkness surrounded Ginny, making her cough. All joy, hope, and happiness, what little she had, was sucked from her in an audible breath. She felt cold and alone. She lost her bravado nerve that she had thought so fiercely with.

****

You're weak, Ginny. Love and want have made you frail, made you pathetic, made you weak. It will be your downfall; it will seal your demise. You're worthless, Ginny, a waste of space. You talk big, but nobody listens to you; nobody likes you, really. They wish you would die, and sometimes you wish you could die too. It's because you're weak, because you didn't listen to me. They hate you.

__

I don't have to listen to you.She thought bigger than she really was, willing herself not to let herself believe Tom's words. Salty tears stung her tired eyes, and she brushed them away frantically with the back of her hand.

But she knew, deep inside her, that she did not have to hear him speak about her like he was. She knew that she did not have to tolerate it; no human should have to tolerate this. She knew that he was wrong; that he was mistaken. She knew that she was not worthless, and that she was not weak, or pathetic, or frail. She knew that she did not have to be heard or liked to get through life. She knew that success did not depend on popularity, that survival did not depend on friends or allies.

And she knew that as much as Tom was ashamed to have a muggle for a father, he was ten times more ashamed that he had none growing up. 

****

But you do.

__

Go away Tom.

Ginny paused to rest against a stone wall. She took a few breaths to steady herself and clear her mind, and tried to figure out where to go next. Her vision became a bit more lucid, and she looked around her surroundings.

Grabbing one of the handles of the Hogwarts Library's door, she opened it and snuck through silently. She took the long way around, walking behind shelves and tables as to not draw attention to herself. Her steps disappeared into the carpeted floor and her presence went unnoticed.

****

I'm not Tom. Tom died in the Chamber. Harry Potter saved your useless skin. You were as good as dead, Ginny, always remember that. You should have died there, and Potter should have left you to die.

Tom depended on _me_ to live. Little, weak, pathetic, sorry Ginny. She thought acidly, mocking him. _Without me, he was better than dead – he was forgotten._

****

And you depended on him, Ginny. He was your friend. He spat out 'friend' disgustedly, as if it marred his reign of evil-hood and had softened him. Ginny wondered if he had become softened.

__

Leave me alone.

****

I would if you really wanted me to.

__

Are you saying I want you to stay – that I want to remember you? After all you did to me?

****

Yes.

~*~*~*~

Draco, realizing that the small battle had been fought and won, turned around and followed her. He took a step forward, then paused, turning around slowly on his heels with a malevolent grin. The Ravenclaw girls stopped whispering and turned their attention to him. The pretty girl who had bumped into Ginny grabbed a small piece of her hair and began to twirl it in a flirty manner. She cocked her head as blonde hair fell around her small, sloping shoulders. He caught her hopeful sky-blue eye.

"Ten points from each of you," he said to the four, "For harassment and intimidation of a fellow student, and thirty from the blonde for deliberate destruction of a student's work. I will tell your Head of House about this atrocious, not to mention repulsive and embarrassing, Ravenclaw behavior and she can decide what to do with you."

He turned around and walked away, leaving the girls gaping. Words like "Softie" and "Bigot" floated to his ears, but he ignored them, not concentrating on what they said about him or what would happen. His mind was on Ginny. Was she OK? Where had she disappeared? His pace was a casual saunter, but his eyes were frantic, looking from side to side across the hallways for any sign of Ginny.

He passed the massive Hogwarts library, its oak doors closing shut. On an impulse, he grabbed the handles and swung it open. He strolled in and walked down the aisle between two long rows of shelves. Students' heads looked up to look at him as he walked by, some smiling at him, some admiring, most glaring. As he got to the end of one row, a hand reached out and swung him back.

"What the bloody-?" he asked before someone slapped him in the face. Caught off guard, his neck swung to the side with a loud crack. It felt very loose on his head.

"Could you do that again, except on the other cheek?" Malfoy asked in a cheeky manner. "It felt bloody good."

"Malfoy, what the bloody hell are you trying to do?" she hissed angrily. Her eyes were livid and sharp. "I was doing fine on my own, before your intervened!"

"That's funny. I usually don't define standing rigid in the hall with all your school things scattered around you feet, a piece of homework torn, and girls laughing and calling you names behind you as 'doing fine'."

"Ok, maybe I wasn't doing 'fine'. But I don't need a hero everytime I get into a tough spot."

She tore her eyes away from him and concentrated at a book on the shelf. Her red ponytail trailed over her shoulder. The soft light of the library hit her hair and it gleamed. It caught his eye and the planet Mars flashed before his eyes. The hues were the same.

"I wasn't being a 'hero', Weasley, so don't flatter yourself," he spat out disgusted. She looked up at him with much disdain. "I'm a pref-" he began loftily.

"So you're _finally_ taking your duties seriously, is that it?" she interjected. Her voice was laced with the slightest hint of mockery and sarcasm. He shrugged with the grace of an angel.

"I have to do _something_ every once in a while before Dumbledore gets suspicious," he said. Ginny felt the corners of her mouth itching upward into a reluctant smile.

"Well," she said, "You preformed valiantly. Dumbledore will never catch on, not with that performance of dauntless antics and selfless deeds. Kudos." There was no mistaking the sardonic sarcasm in her voice. It made Malfoy smile, how articulate she could be when she really was provoked. She looked up at him and he firmly crossed his arms with an amused, lazy smirk. She glared at him, angry that he did not pick up on her closing word.

"I believe you forgot the part where you mention about how bloody grateful you are to me, and how you will always be in my debt and therefore pledge me your life, love, and servitude for as long as you are well enough to breathe," he said arily. The way he spoke was almost teasing, almost flirtatious.

Ginny, however, looked at him wearily. "Feel free to leave. The exit's the entrance you came through," she said in an emotionless, almost, daresay, tired, voice. Giving him one last look, she turned around, and for the second time that day, walked away. She went back to a table, leaving Malfoy standing behind her.

He was rather speechless.

Draco had half the mind to just walk away. Obviously, she did not want his help, although she was in a bad need of it. He could make himself stop offering to assist her and prevent himself from making an already bigger fool out of himself.

But the other half of him was cemented to the ground. The other half of him was completely gobsmacked by the remarkable young woman that stood in front of him. He was awed, silenced, and humbled by her strong will and sharp tongue, pitied and plaintive by her daily trials, curious of what happened in his second year. Who was this Tom, that he haunt, torment, and torture her even as a Sixth year?

It was admiration and jealousy that kept his feet unmoving. It was a foreign emotion, the wanting to help, that kept him there, kept him patient.

He wanted to help Ginny. He wanted to know what kept her strong, what kept her going in such a world where she was ignored, spat on, and disregarded like she was. He wanted to know what it felt like to be manipulated, and used, and corrupted, and then live. He wanted to hear what she had to say. He wanted to defend her and protect her. He wanted to figure her out.

****

Author's Note: Much thanks to reviewers Massao-na-Mizu, Liebling, River Goddess, kneh13, ZetaBee, Amy-Jennifer, iNzaNiTi (When he said 'Twinkies', he meant 'Lack of' with it. It went unsaid**), Mrs. Niles Crane, Brooke Kenobi, and raindrops, all who reviewed Chapter 1.**

For the record:

Swot – a very studious person with no social life

Gobsmacked – at a lost for words, awestruck, astounded


	3. Infuriating

****

Disclaimer: I own nothing mentioned in this story and am making no money off of it whatsoever.

__

-

Some people bring you gifts; some bring you bricks to weigh you down

So they can swim a little higher while you drown.

Some people mean so well, their way was the best way that they found,

But any other way you choose is a brick that weighs you down.

So tell me, what do I do with this backpack full of bricks?

Of sticks and stones and words that stuck to me like ticks?

Let it go, let it be.

Brick by brick we can be free

Of all the words that we saved

till we were our own enemy.

Let it go, let it be

Brick by brick 

We can believe in the person  
God intended us to be.

Some people give themselves a brick, I know most people do

When we compare, we fall short somewhere, it's always true

If all we see is where we fall, we brick the prison wall.

Instead of trying to learn to fly, we're taught ourselves to crawl

- Let it Be; Superchic[k]

****

Wanted:

Infuriating

Malfoy walked between the two tall shelves stocked with books to the end of the aisle where Ginny sat. She had already gotten comfortable and had spread out her school things out around her. There was little room left on the small table.

Her mop of red hair had been left out and partially covered her face, her head bent in concentration; reading a book pulled from the shelves. On one side of her was a piece of parchment with shorthanded notes jotted down on them and her quail quill was poised over it, tip black with ink, ready to take down notes the moment she read them. 

He reached out and pulled the chair across her out from under the table and eased himself into it. He set his bookbag down on the ground next to his chair leg. She did not object – she did not even look up. Turning the page with her free hand, she dropped the quill back into the well and folded her hands together, as if she was praying.

But Malfoy noticed her ghost white knuckles and red fingers as they clenched around each other, and how she bit her lip and her eyes flew back to the top of the page again. He smirked at her attempt to ignore him.

Ginny bit her lip and her eyes flew over the top of the page as she heard him sit down. 'Oh god, what the bloody hell is he doing?' she thought frantically, her hands slipping into her lap and migrating the table legs, clenching and unclenching them in her palm.

'This is bad. Horrible. Not only does he know about – about Tom, but he's a Malfoy! God, could I be in any deeper shit?!' She cursed her misfortune and decided that pretending he didn't exist was the best way to deal with her crisis.

'Why can't he just go away and leave me alone? God, of all people!'

But she knew that she didn't _really _mean that. Even though he was a Malfoy – Draco Malfoy – he was still the only one who knew her name. He was polite enough to her, not exactly complimenting her in a friendly manner, but definitely an improvement from the Ravenclaw girls. She was well aware that even though she should be purposely provoking him to leave her alone, she lapped up the attention, the presence of another knew of her existence. She was even grateful that he treated her like a human, with dignity and – sometimes, she even detected a hint of respect – hidden behind his sneers and comments.

"Where's that parchment?" he asked her casually, as if they were acquaintances, rather than sworn enemies.

'What could he possibly want with my report?' she thought, confused. 'It's past repair, now I'll have to stay up late to rewrite it.' She bit her lip. 'Not to mention, I have the Transfiguration exam, and I haven't been able to rid the top hat of all the rabbit fur yet! I don't have time for this!'

"Why?" she asked, irritated and unnerved by the calm, amused look in his rain cloud eyes. "Didn't quite catch the damage those Ravenclaws inflicted on it?" she jeered.

"Do _you _want to rewrite it, Weasley?" he asked, finishing abruptly as if he wanted to add something but thought better of it.

She scowled and grabbed two pieces of parchment, throwing them over to him. He caught them and tried to rearrange them in the small space in front of him. Frustrated that he could not, he took several of her books and library books and placed them on the floor in a stack with a loud 'THUMP'.

"What do you bloody want with it, anyway, Malfoy?" she asked as he placed the two pieces of parchment together in the larger open space he had created.

"I was going to _fix_ it so you don't have to rewrite it," he said slowly, as if he was doing the younger classman a huge favor, which he was.

"Oh." She paused, closing the dusty old book she had been reading and placing it on the ground with respect to its age and condition. She sat up and looked at him. "Could you pass me '_The Goblin Uprising of 1532_'?"

He bent down and took book off book, until he found the one she was asking for second to the bottom. It was an old book, preserved only by magic and Spellotape; that he passed to her. She did not say any thanks, and he had not expected any.

"But if you would rather rewrite it, that's fine with me," he said breezily. Ginny shot him a sharp look, which he smirked off.

"No, it's fine with me. Continue." She opened the book and trailed a long slender finger over the table of contents, and, upon finding her chapter, began to flip through the yellowing pages to the chapter she was looking for.

"Weren't you listening when I told you I could fix it?" he asked, knowing the answer. She scowled at him again, and he smirked slightly.

"No. I seemed to be a bit 'out of it'," she said scornfully, jerking her head so that her hair fanned out around her shoulders.

"What _were _you doing?" he asked; she glared at him and opened her mouth to speak. He cut her off. "No, reword that. You were _doing _nothing. What were you _thinking_?"

'Like I'd ever tell _you _that,' Ginny thought bitterly, the sounds of their empty and vicious laughter echoing faintly in her ear, which was beginning to redden.

"Plotting various ways to murder them all and make it look like an accident," she said smoothly, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong.

"Uh huh," he said, not bothering to disguise the disbelief in his voice. Ginny didn't feel like trying to convince him, partially because she wasn't convinced herself. She went back to reading about the goblin rebellion.

Malfoy looked down at the two pieces of parchment, reading what was written on each half.

**__**

In the Presence of Eternal Darkness

The Effects and Consequences of Long Term Occupancy with the Corrupted

By Virginia Weasley, Sixth year

"What is this?" he asked, noting the foot-long parchment filled with tiny, neat, closely spaced writing with raised eyebrows. It hurt his eyes to try to read it over the rip.

"Oh." Ginny looked up and blushed slightly. "It's – it's my report for Defense Against the Dark Arts over an – an aspect of the Dark side," she said stuttering.

'Oh God, I knew it was a bad idea to let him fix it!' she thought, horrified at having her beloved report in the hands of the enemy. 'Please, don't make fun of it; please, just fix it – don't read it!' she mentally begged.

"Really?" Malfoy asked, pretending not to be interested. "Sounds more like a testimonial if you ask me." He looked at her, expecting to hear '_Well, nobody asked you_,' but was surprised by the small smile on her face and gratitude in her brown eyes. Her cheeks were red from embarrassment.

"It has some… personal experiences in it," she said. "I tried to keep it unbiased, but Professor Corran enthusiastically agreed to read some personal experiences and let me write about what it feels like. She said that it would show why some people succumb to the Dark and allow themselves to become corrupted like Lord Voldemolt has, and how it would appeal to them so much that they would allow themselves to do horrible, horrible things." 

__

'Shut your bloody mouth, Ginny! Why don't you just tell him your entire life story while you're at it?' she thought angrily to herself.

Malfoy closed the rip between the two halves and tried to arrange them as best as he possibly could.

"Do you have a clean parchment?" he asked. She took one from a stack on the ground and handed it to him. Malfoy took it from her and fingered it with disdain, then bent down and took a piece of parchment from his bag, a thicker one that was more absorbent and refined, along with his wand.

Placing her parchment in his bag, he straightened his over the ripped one and muttered the spell. Instantly, the two parchments began to glow gold. Ink seeped onto the page as if forced through the surface of the thick parchment like black blood. Words began to form in the style of Ginny's neat writing, sentences so tiny and so close together that he had difficulty being able to distinguish where a paragraph ended and another began. He ran his eyes over the area in the middle, checking to make sure that the flow of words was not uneven, and that all the letters were there. He smiled, satisfied with the work, and how well the newly mastered charm had worked for him.

"Is this all there is to it?" he asked, looking at the bottom.

Ginny shook her head. "No, there's about three more pieces like that," she said, trying to conceal her pride.

The paper had been assigned in the third week of school: to write about any aspect of the Dark Arts. It had to be at least one standard parchment page long or one-and-a-half feet. She had started her paper almost immediately, immersing herself in her parchments. The library, in fact the very corner she was in now, had become her hideaway, her place to escape when the day had been too much to handle. She had researched other people throughout the ages who had been possessed like she had, not under spells or charms, but by the person themselves, and how they had made their mark in history.

She had been quite surprised to find that these people, when the story of their experience was told, were not shunned or treated cruelly, as she was, but were rather admired and looked upon for strength, leadership, and courage. To others, they lead, they were not images of those who had been weak and overtaken by darkness, but who had been strong and overcome the darkness.

Ginny supposed that because they had found the strength within themselves that they were able to hold their heads up high and walk with pride, even though their past was marred and their minds eternally scarred. She realized that instead of pitying themselves, as she found herself so often doing, that they had they had had the courage to look the world in the eye. They had found the strength to prove to those that may have imprudently scorned them that they were not to be persecuted for their experience. They viewed the Dark, though it was not easy, as an obstacle to overcome, and however difficult it may have been, they determined not to make it a permanent stop in their lives.

And so she resolved to become like these people.

So she began recording the emotions that she had experienced when she was in possession of the diary, the times when she couldn't remember what had happened, and how Tom had first appealed to her on any spare parchment she might have at any given time. She was afraid that if she did not write it down immediately, she would lose it forever.

Then, she wrote down how it felt when she realized what she had done, and how she had to cope living with her mistake. She wrote about how her family still loved her, forgave her, and accepted her as though she were no different than before. She wrote about the times that she felt so depressed and unnoticed that suicide seemed to be the only way out, and how, some days, she felt as if everyone hated her. She wrote how Tom's voice still tormented her, and she wrote how she was able to live through each day, if only with the hope the next one would be better.

She concluded how that small thought, the thought of a better tomorrow, was enough to motivate her to endure the sneers, taunts, and glares throughout the day, all of them demanding her to give up. She wrote about how trials and suffering like this made someone tap into their inner strength, refining them like alloy metal into steel.

And then she made a note at the bottom:

**__**

No human should ever have to endure this treatment, not only the presence with someone immersed in the Dark, but also the way others have treated that person because of it. Every person should be welcomed, accepted, wanted, and loved, simply because they are a person. In this thinking, we place ourselves equal with all other people, regardless of their past, their choices, their appearance, or their thinking. We open our minds to diversity when we forgive the faults that we find in each other and in ourselves, and we allow ourselves to experience what we might've never seen before through another's eyes.

Ginny valued these parchments more than her life. This was her story, the logic behind the reason. Even if her body passed away, her words were eternal, and they would speak for her when she could not. She hoped that this might be an eye-opener for some. It was not a plea for sympathy or a cry for help; she wanted it to be a tool for understanding and comprehension. She wanted others to see her as a girl who made a mistake, not as a freak or a queer or a mental case, but as a simple girl, who dreamed of living a simple life.

Because such was her small and simple wish, to be seen as a girl – maybe even be known as Ginny – and nothing more or less.

And she knew that it would take time for people to see her as a girl and not as a queer, maybe a long time. But she was willing to wait and patiently endure until she was.

"Here, Weasley," Malfoy said, handing back her parchment with the first page of her report on it. She looked up and took it out of his outstretched hand.

"Thanks," she said. He nodded his head slightly and flicked up his eyebrows in response.

"So…" she said, placing the parchment in her bag. "What happened to those girls?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to recall how many points he had taken away. Sixty – he had taken away sixty points in total.

"Did you let them go?" she asked, not explaining what she meant and not really needing to.

"Of course not," he said, almost offended. "I'm a prefect!"

"Damn good one you are," she said sarcastically.

"Thank you," he said, pleased, intentionally ignoring her sarcasm.

"What did you do, then? Pat them on the back for successfully making a Weasley choke?" She was getting more sarcastic by the moment, and the witty Ginny that he had met in the North Tower was beginning to take form. He smirked, preferring this Ginny to the spineless, mute one that had cowered before the Ravenclaw girls.

"Don't be daft!" he scolded her, to which she gave an amused look. "I took points away from them."

"Half a point for each girl then?" She smirked and closed her book. "For a grand total of two points?"

"Try sixty," he said evenly. Her mouth visibly dropped.

"Holy -" she broke off, smiling.

"And I said I'd talk to their Head of House," Malfoy said seriously, "They could get expelled for repeated abuse like that."

"It's called 'Peer Pressure', Malfoy," she corrected. He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward.

"It's not 'Peer Pressure'. 'Peer Pressure' is when you're urged to do something against your will because everyone else is doing it. 'Abuse' is uncalled for mistreatment and shouldn't be tolerated."

She smirked at him and his conviction, and he realized that he had just said too much. He felt his face pale, although not noticeably, and tried to keep his face expressionless.

"Since when have you been so righteous?" she asked, half-surprised and half-amused.

"Since I decided I wouldn't like being treated like that myself." The words came out so fast that they had not been thoroughly rationalized, rather, his words were an impulsive thought that was voiced before they had registered with his brain. And although he had to grimace at the brutal honesty in his words, he was not ashamed to have thought – and spoken – them, strangely. He wondered how he could ever endure the teasing and harassment that the Weasley girl was so accustomed to.

"It's ok to pity me, Malfoy, but don't lie," Ginny said, not wanting to believe what he had said. Her mind was racing, her heart beating like the bass line of Weird Sister song: loud and long. She swallowed nothing, but processed his surprising words slowly in her head.

'Oh god, he can't be _serious_, can he?' she mentally hissed. 'He couldn't be, he's an apathetic Malfoy! Tell me I'm dreaming, someone please!' she cried, confused and scared.

****

You know you love this. The sympathizing, the pity. You're feeding off of it, Ginny. You're a liar.

She looked up at him and found him staring intensely at her, like razor beams searching her face. She fidgeted under his gaze, but he did not move an inch. He was looking for anything that could distinguish this young woman from the other girls, any noticeable surface scar that he could see that made her vulnerable to other students and classmates.

__

I am not.

Her brown eyes ran over his sharp face frantically, confused. They traveled to his nose, down to his thin pale lips that looked as if they belonged to someone else, then to his ear, to the other, and down to his neck, avoiding his gaze.

****

And you love that it's from someone so infamous as Malfoy, the son of the very man that cursed you with me. You're lapping this all up. You love the irony and wish for nothing else than for him to be wrapped around your finger.

Ginny's teeth clenched themselves, defining her jawline. She was nervous, unaccustomed to this kind of attention from this kind of a person. Was something wrong with her face? A honking pimple that had managed to wedge its way to the surface of her skin unnoticed or a piece of lettuce between her teeth?

__

That's not true, Tom. I don't want anything like that; quit saying such malicious things!

If not for her sad eyes and lack of a smile, he would have thought her to be almost pretty.

****

You didn't come out of that Chamber as innocent as you were when you went in. You know what power tastes like, how _easy_ it is to manipulate others, even someone like Malfoy. You want your revenge, and he just might be able to achieve it for you. Face it, Ginny, you're lapping this all up.

Her appearance was so average that, if not for her bright and distinctive hair, she would completely disappear into the population of Hogwarts students and he might never see her again. For as much as he knew, she didn't talk much and she didn't have any friends. She had no reason to be hated and no excuse for tolerating it, as far as he knew. But, then again, he reasoned, what did he know?

__

I don't want anything like that, Tom – I'm not you. I can resist evil for a second time, even through your failure.

Nothing. He knew nothing, other than what he was learning from his two short encounters with her, and that had given him little insight to why she was preyed upon and how she was so goddamn strong. He did not know how she conducted herself in class or how smart she was. He didn't know how she acted when she ate, how she presented herself to other classmates. He didn't know much about her or her family, besides the obvious, he didn't know much about her dark past. He didn't know her birthday or her favorite color, or what sort of music she liked, if she listened to any at all. He didn't know her hobbies or pastimes, or anything that she might laugh at if he said. He didn't know her favorite board game or sport, if she even liked board games or sports, or what her favorite book was and why.

A loud sound of books thumping broke his reverie, and his eyes snapped back into focus. Ginny was across the table, standing up as she lifted books onto the table, sorting them. Her quills were thrown back into her bag and her parchment was stacked off to one side.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to leave," she said, quickly shoving books back onto the shelves. Her pace was quick; her steps were nothing short of frantic.

"Why?"

"I have to help Ron with something." That was a lie if Malfoy had ever heard one. Still, he did not question her; a plan of action of his own began to form in his head.

Ginny gathered all her things and hugged them close to her chest. She walked past Malfoy, who had just stood up and was grabbing his bag off from the ground. She waited until he was done pushing in his chair before clearing her throat. Malfoy's attention turned from the table to her, standing only but a foot and a half from him.

But he didn't have to see her to know that she was there. She had a scent that was so distinctly Ginny that he could have easily christened it 'Virginia'. She smelt faintly of chocolate and oranges and tangy spice. Cinnamon tied them all together, with an underlying scent of rose. It was scent that Malfoy had never smelt something so different, so wonderful, and he fought of the impulse to turn around, grab her by the shoulders, and snog the life out of her, she smelt so good.

She took in a sharp breath. He smelt so good, and his looks rivaled his smell. He smelt comforting, like a warm bed or flannel Pjs, and enticing and desirable. A disturbing image of her and Malfoy heatedly snogging popped into her mind and she hastily blushed, grimacing. However, It was a welcoming scent that made one want to engage in mature conversation over hot cocoa.

His cheeks were a wan red color from windburn and the area around his eyes was a bit pink from the heated library. His face was like wheat, a pale, pale flesh color and without any blemish, and his eyes the color of dull metal like the knights in armor that lined the halls of Hogwarts. His hair was white like the moon and he was tall, taller than she was.

He was very, very attractive, and painfully perfect. Not like her

"Thank you," she said professionally and curtly. "You really didn't have to." She turned around and walked away, her bag bouncing on her curvy hips and her long ponytail swinging from shoulder to shoulder with each step. Her back was straight and her head was high as if nothing, not Ravenclaw girls nor dogs nor demons could possibly stop her.

She really was very pretty.

"But I did," he murmured, "and you're welcome."

Then he turned and began to walk through the shelves that held the school record books. To understand Weasley, he reasoned, he would have to know whom, exactly, this Tom person was.

Even if he had to confront Ginny herself about it.

****

Author's Note: Thanks to Cherrie **Berry Draco Luver, Cinnamon Angel, Storm079** (Yes, the twinkies were a good thing. I meant "The lack of twinkies". I don't really like twinkies myself), **Raven (**thank you for such high praise! I wanted her to be very contradicatory but still make sense, so I haveta draw that part out a bit more. Good theory on Tom's voice in her head! I hope that the chapters don't disappoint you, though they will involve Malfoy trying to woo Ginny into trusting him**), Brooke Kenobi (**Wow! That's really interesting (the birthday thing!**) and Liebling (**painful? That's perfect praise!**), all who reviewed Wanted 2.**

Please read and review and tell me what you think!


	4. Breakthrough

****

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters mentioned in this story and I'm not making money off of it.

Author's Note: it's a transitioning chapter, with no D/G interaction. So sue me! I promise, lots of D/G action in chapters to come!

Be careful how you take hope away from another human being.

**__**

Sometimes, life brings more pain than we can bear alone,

When hope is gone, and I have no strength to stand on my own.

When nothing helps, there's nothing that I can do,

You surround me, and show me I belong to you.

I belong to you, I belong to you

You're the one who will never let me down,

Won't let me down,

I belong to you.

- I Belong to You; Superchic[k]

Wanted:

Breakthrough

Malfoy was convinced that resourceful scouring of the library would be enough to find out who Ginny's mysterious tormentor, Tom, was. As it turned out, luck was the only factor that mattered, much to his dismay.

He searched through every school record for a 'Tom Someone', and produced fifty-six people who fit that vague description from 1920 to 1990 alone. Clearly, his work was cut out for him, Draco thought wryly. 

Undaunted, he began to take note of all the interesting ones. There were few Prefects and Head Boys on his list, most were receivers of school medals and honors and surprising number of Quidditch players. He wrote for several hours after Ginny had left, in the same, deserted corner where she had sat earlier, and soon the table accumulated piles of old and dusty school records, indexes open. Occasionally, he'd rub his gray, watery eyes, walking around the table to stretch his legs and breathe some fresher air. He continued his search until the early evening, with a list of people he would inquire about to Madam Pince or Professor McGonagall or some other ancient creature who had been around as long as they had.

He grabbed parchment after parchment to add Toms onto his already growing list, scribbling names and facts. His hand reached for Ginny's parchment that he had kept and placed it in front of him, his quill dipped with rich and solid black ink and poised to write '**_Thomas Smitthy_**' at the top.

His posture was bent as he leaned close to the parchment to write in hurried strokes as the smell of what he imagined to be Ginny's wafted up to him. The parchment smelt very faintly of a floral scent and a fresh breeze, and Malfoy found himself wanting to smell more of it. The scent left him hungry, desiring more of the sweet and soothing fragrance. He leaned back in his chair, contemplating what to do, whether to write on it or keep it blank, and why the hell should he treasure HER cheap piece of parchment anyway? Plenty of girls perfumed their parchment for lack of anything better to do, so why should one girl make a difference to him? Unconsciously, his hand reached down and brought the paper up to his nose, and he inhaled deeply, her scent driving him crazy and mad that it was so faint, and fading fast. He shook his head; this was really very silly of himself, and he wasn't accomplishing anything sniffing parchment paper. He placed it down and was about to write, when, against logic, he grabbed another parchment of his and wrote the entry on that one. 

**__**

Thomas Smitthy, Beater on the Hufflepuff team of 1965, had a history of violence during games and was suspended from the game in a record amount of time, five minutes into the first game of the season, Slytherin versus Hufflepuff. Slytherin went on to win that game, 160-40, final score, while 50 points were deducted from Hufflepuff for Smitthy's personal foul.

He pushed her paper away and began to find another Tom that he should be suspicious of, and filled that one up with facts of past students. When his watch finally chimed six thirty, Malfoy leaned back in his chair, taking a well-deserved break.

'Wouldn't it be a lot easier to just ask her about who Tom is?' he wondered. He laughed aloud, a soft bark of a chuckle. 'God, why am I such an idiot? She'd never tell me, already thinks I'm up to somethin' anyway. And anythin' more will look like I'm _stalking_ her, which is disgusting and wrong on all levels. Besides, it'd only give people all the more reason to harass her.' He frowned, looking down at his seven-paper list, making a face; he could feel his right hand throb.

'Guess this will have to be accomplished the difficult way.'

He gathered up his papers into a stack, tucking Ginny's paper into the mix, and stacked the thick record books that he had used onto the other side of the table. He had jotted down most of the noteworthy names that he had wanted, and felt himself rather accomplished. Shoving the books back onto the shelf that they belonged on, he walked out into the aisle and right into Harry Potter, flanked by Hermoine Granger and Ron Weasley. Malfoy stepped back with a glare as his parchments flew around them, falling out of order and landing on the floor.

"Smart, Potter. Maybe they should've taught you how to walk correctly before they shoved a broom onto you," he drawled out, crossing his arms, tucking his bag under one. He tried not to grimace as he thought of his parchments littered on the floor.

Harry's eyes narrowed behind his glasses, while Ron's face became red and splotchy. "Stay out of our way, Malfoy," he said with a tone of voice that could have almost been interpreted as threatening.

"Oh, I understand how it is now. I was in _your_ way. I'm so sorry," he said sarcastically, stepping forward towards the shorter boy, "for being blind." He tapped Harry's lenses with a long pale finger, making a sharp rapping noise, smirking maliciously.

"Where are your little cronies, Malfoy?" Ron asked, noting the absent bodies on either side of Malfoy.

"Somewhere," he waved his hand off to the door. "You _are_ aware that they _can_ think for themselves. But don't be too intimidated by them, Weasley, there are loads of people jealous here because they can only wish for the muscle mass they possess." Ron's face both reddened and whitened at the same time and his brown eyes flashed. Harry turned and caught his friend right before any serious damage could be done.

"Assault of a fellow prefect, Weasley? Is that _really _the smartest move?" Malfoy asked.

"He's right, Ron, you don't want -" Hermoine started to say before being interrupted by Malfoy.

"Of _course_, I'm right. Don't let yourself think anything contrary to that statement, Weasley. Now, Mu – _Granger_," he said, receiving a sharp glare from the tall Weasley who stood beside her, "I'd appreciate it very much if you would detach yourself from my belongings, Now." He said, looking pointedly at the parchment in her hands.

She glanced up and Malfoy could clearly see the surprise on her face, unobscured by curly bangs.

"Who are all these people?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"People," he responded shortly. "My parchment. _Please_." He held out his hand and became very annoyed when she ignored it, continuing with searching eyes down the list. He tapped his toe quickly, irritated, although the sound was lost in the thick carpet of the library. He didn't like being nice, or patient, or ignored, and certainly didn't like being all three of them at the same time.

"Why are all their names 'Thomas'?" she asked. He glanced at her with clear aggravation, wishing that she'd mind her own business for once.

"Because I find explicit joy in looking up dead wizards from years past that attended Hogwarts and whose names were 'Tom'," he replied with heavy sarcasm.

"Tom?" Harry asked, bending down and picking up a piece of parchment at his feet.

"Yes, Potter, 'Tom'. My parchment." He snapped his fingers, but Harry was oblivious.

"Is this everybody? This can't be everybody that's been named Tom that's ever attend Hogwarts," Hermoine commented, looking at the parchments that were scattered around them.

"Observant, Granger, really _brilliant_ deduction you've made," Malfoy said dryly.

" 'Tom Riddle' " Harry muttered softly, his eyes roving up and down the one of the sheets.

"Tom who?" Malfoy asked, his head whipping around and glaring at Harry, who had not even realized he'd said it, with such intensity that he took a step back. Draco racked his brain, trying to recall a 'Tom Riddle' in his search.

He had encountered a 'Riddle, Tom M.', Slytherin prefect who was _perfect_. A forsaken child who had become Hogwarts' pride and joy for the seven years he attended the school. Head in everything, brilliant mind, popular and charismatic, and was the proud owner of a blemish-free record and receiver of many awards in his time at Hogwarts.

Malfoy hated the boy simply based on his description in the record book, even though he had been a former Slytherin. He didn't sound like a very good candidate for Malfoy's list of suspicious persons, but, as his Father's words came back to him: "It's not the dishonest people in life you have to be careful around, since you can always count on them to be dishonest. It's the honest people that you have to watch out for, because you never know when they'll turn out to be dishonest."

Thinking it over, Malfoy decided that 'Riddle, Tom M.' sounded like a perfect suspect on his list.

Harry hesitated before he spoke again. "Tom Riddle."

"Riddle? Why the hell would I have _him _on my list?"

"You wouldn't know, Malfoy," Hermoine interejected, taking a step closer. He leaned back, a smirk on his face. "You wouldn't care."

"Try me," he dared them, falling back.

"Try the Heir of Slytherin," she said back, dramatically, her ponytail whipping around and resting on her shoulder.

"No," Malfoy breathed, rather than said. Blood was pounding in his ears from excitement, hesitation, and slight fear. He leaned on a bookshelf behind him to steady himself and closed his eyes.

"He was responsible for opening the Chamber both times."

Malfoy was silent, eyes shut. He wondered why Potter was telling him this in the first place. He cracked them open and saw that Potter was not talking to him, but to himself, and to remind his companions.

"The time first, by himself. The second, through Ginny," Hermoine said thoughtfully to herself before covering a hand over her mouth. "Oh Ron," she squeaked, her cheeks becoming a bright pink, "I'm sorry!"

Weasley shook his head. Malfoy had the feeling that he was soon to be forgotten from the conversation, having not spoken in a while. He didn't particualarily care.

Hermoine absentmindly bent down and picked up the fallen parchments, shaking her head and biting her lip.

"Poor girl, I would've _died _if that had all happened to me. As a first year too! Only eleven years old." She shook her head, bouncing the stack of parchments on a knee.

"She almost did die," Harry reminded her, taking a step closer. Together, they formed the three points of a triangle.

It fascinated Malfoy to know that Weaslette had almost died. He almost felt humbled.

Hermoine nodded. "In the Chamber of Secrets. I remember."

'So it does exist,' Draco mused. A picture of a dark cave, tunnels woven in and intersecting other tunnels, and an omnious drip of cold water on rock floor materialized in his head. A human boy standing over a crumpled Ginny, stroking her cheek as she paled in her sleep.

"She's never really recovered," Ron said somberly.

Something happened in Malfoy's chest that made it hard to breathe. _Never recovered…_ Ron's words rang hauntingly in Malfoy's ears.

"You guys weren't there that summer. She'd wake the entire house up every night with her screaming, and it was the damn scariest thing to have to wake her up. She'd stare with these _huge _blank eyes and she'd be gasping and twitching…" Ron shuddered, the memory disturbing. "She never talked, and Harry, you know how talkitive she is." Harry nodded. "Barely said a word over the break; the house was so _quiet._"

"How come I don't remember this?" Hermoine asked, her brows furrowed. She scratched her cheek, trying to remember why.

"You went to France, and Harry was busy blowing up his aunt." Ron smirked at his friend and Malfoy stifled a laugh.

"And we went to Egypt. It did Ginny a bit of good, I suppose. Distracted her, if nothing else. She was a little better. I guess that she just needed some time, anyways, that's what mum says."

"I'd probably need more time than she did if You-Know-Who possessed me too," Harry remarked.

Draco stopped breathing for a second, his mind desperatly trying to make the transaction from Tom Riddle to Lord Voldemort. The only logical explanation was the most obvious: Tom M. Riddle, disgustingly perfect, rule-abiding, pride and joy of Hogwarts, Slytherin prefect, grew up to be possibly the most destructive modern revolutionary that ever walked the face of the wizarding world.

He decided that this piece of information was _most _interesting.

"She got all Outstandings on her O.W.L.s, didn't she, Ron? Isn't that what you said?" Hermoine asked, touching Ron's arm tenderly.

"Yeah. She's always studying." He shook his head. "Takes Magical Healing _and_ extra Potion classes, and a Defense Against the Dark Arts course. Don't know how she finds the time for it all."

"It's not like she has much of a social life," Harry said non-offensivly.

"She's just got her priorities straight!" Hermoine said defensivly.

Ron gave her a sideline look. "Yeah ok." He pronounced them as one word.

Malfoy's mind, once slow, raced to process the new information and impications. This Tom that Ginny had mentioned wasn't just someone evil whom she was now forced to deal with in bad memories and scary dreams. This Tom was the epitome of evil, hatred, chaos, and death. And who was Ginny Weasley? Small at the time, innocent, willing to trust and confide, vulnerable, and scared. She was a perfect target for him, easy to manipulate, and easy to finish off. No one would have mourned over her; nobody would have missed her. She was a nobody.

It was said that only one person had ever faced Lord Voldemort and lived, and that person was naught five feet away from him. But, Malfoy considered with a lazy smile, that that statement was erred; there were two. One that faced him as a boy, and one that faced him as a man.

If Ginny _had_ faced Riddle, who later grew up to be feared and revered as Lord Voldemort, then she had strength and courage that was unimaginable, and determination that made his persistence look like a puppy's whining. This young woman was nothing less than remarkable; was he the only one that realized that?

The conversation turned playful as Hermoine swatted Ron's arm, and he teased the studious Head Girl for her nerdy ways. Malfoy decided that there was no more information to be gained and walked out, avoiding the triangle of smiling friends, Hermoine still holding his pile of Tom parchments in her hands. He let her; he wouldn't be needing them.

He had only one other place to go: Professor Flitwick's private office, Head of Ravenclaw House. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"That is atrocious behavior, Mr. Malfoy, that you are describing. Are you sure these were girls under my house?" Professor Flitwick squeaked, his eyes bright and wide.

True to his word, Malfoy reported to Professor Flitwick the behavior of the four Ravenclaw girls that he had witnessed. Professor Flitwick had been, understandably, shocked when Malfoy had informed him, but was even more surprised when he saw the look on his student's face.

Draco's face was impeccably serious and aged beyond his years, contrary to the immature baby-face that was usually complimented by his trademark smirk. His eyes held a gleam of victory, but their usually haughtiness was absent. He spoke reserved and unbiased, in a tone that was far different from the sneering, snide voice he regularily used.

"I am positive," he declared, "This was an unprovoked, malicious attack on a fellow classmate and destruction of personal items belonging to that classmate." His voice was cold and distant. Hard and as cutting as ice.

"Do you remember the names of these young women?" Professor Flitwick asked him. Malfoy nodded, and told them to the small professor, who jotted them down on a pad of paper on his desk.

"I deducted sixty points from them as a group," Malfoy mentioned.

"A wise move," commended the professor as he wrote it down. Behind him, the meter of Ravenclaw points fell. "I will add to your sixty another forty, to make it an even 100 points." The blue liquid fell even further.

Malfoy whistled, and Professor Flitwick looked up. "There's no reason to be surprised. Condemnable behavior will not be tolerated in my house, Mr. Malfoy."

"Your call," he said, eyebrows raised. 'Your funeral', he added on in his head, a small smirk forminh on his lips before he spoke again. "I trust that you'll find an acceptable punishment for these ladies in question. One thing, Professor, however, that I might ask of you?"

"Yes?" he asked as Malfoy stood in front of his desk.

"An apology to Ginny. One from each of them. Heartfelt, sincere, whatever. Written and then orally given to her," he said firmly, daring Professor Flitwick to refuse his request.

He, however, only smiled. "An admirable demand, Mr. Malfoy, and one that I believe I can see to be fulfilled."

Malfoy fought the urge to let a triumphant smile cross his face. Instead, he nodded his head and wished the Professor a good night. He grabbed his parchment and bag from the floor before exiting his office and closing the door behind him. For now, he could only wait.

And watch.

****

Author's Note: Thank yous for reviewing the last chapter to stormy.hopes (Thanks! Tom is actually really freaky to write. I usually write it outloud, all the dialouge is spoken beforehand, and he's really freaky to me too! It's kinda fun to write Ginny talking to him though, becuz I like to picture her being not a hero, but not a coward.**), Cinnamon Angel (**I hope that I can cover how she lives with the Tom voice later on in the story. Thanks for such nice words, they really mean a lot to hear such praise from a fellow author.**), Rinfirithiel (**OMG, Sara, you're such a dork! I hope you're sayin that cuz you LIKE the story, not becuz you're a nice friend. =D your bios so random, it's hilarious.**) and silvia (**thank you very much!**).**

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	5. Confusion

**Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I making any money from this story or the characters.**

**Author's Note: yeah! Finally! A little bit of romance!**

**_They said he'd never make it, maybe they're right;_**

_his__ parents never believed that his dreams could take flight._

_All he ever wanted was for them to be proud of him,_

_it__ was the whole world to him, he needed to win._

**_He gave his everything, but sometimes it's not enough_**

**_He thinks he's a failure, now he's not worth being loved._**

**_He forgets he had the courage to climb up so high,_**

_the__ courage to try, the courage to fly._

**_- Rock Stars; Superchic[k]_**

**Wanted**

**Confusion**

Hogsmead was packed with students and adults alike, all eager to finish their last minute holiday shopping. From the looks of it, Malfoy could see that some procrastinators had decided to begin and end their shopping in the small magical town. He smirked as he saw them struggle with their numerous bags, boxes, and packages, but all with smiles on their faces and laughing lines around their eyes as their teeth chattered in the cold, talking animatedly to friends and family.

It seemed that everyone was in the Christmas spirit, all except ...

He glanced into the small inn across the street with a popular tavern on the lower level. It was located on a less-traveled street, affording him with a clear view of its occupant through the glass window. Yes, she was still there, sitting alone and stirring her hot chocolate with a spoon, slowly, methodically, just like the careful girl she was. Her red hair, gleaming like soft gold in the dimmed light, was up in a high ponytail, straight strands falling down her back and over the chair, long bangs tucked behind either ear. Her eyes were cast down and concentrating on a _Daily Prophet_ in front of her, serious and, only if you looked carefully enough, sad.

Ginny Weasley was hiding a great secret of monstrous proportions, a story that could be, and one day most likely would be, woven into a tale the likes of the ancient epics. Her tale was complete with a protagonist and antagonist of legendary status, and her, the innocent, manipulated bystander caught in the middle.

She was an amazingly strong and resilient young woman. She was a warrior who refused to submit, a fighter who would not let weariness stop her defense and slow her attack. She was a healer who looked after herself when she took a blow, and nurturer, like a mother, cradling and protecting herself; all hiding away in the slender tall frame of a young woman.

In fact, she looked perfectly normal - even attractive to some. It was only if you examined her long and hard did you realize that she never smiled and her pretty brown eyes never gleamed nor glittered, her skin didn't glow with a certain gleam that so many blossoming girls her age had.

It was only if you studied her long and hard that you would see the flaw, and realize that there was something wrong with her.

Malfoy was in an oddity shop across the street from the tavern, isolated from the main hustle and bustle of the more popular side of Hogsmead. Few students ventured down here, mostly older pupils who were bored with the Honeydukes and Zonkos. He had caught a glimpse of a red ponytail from down the street and followed, careful to remain invisible to her eye. The last thing that they both needed was a rumor starting about a secret and passionate romance that neither of them were partaking on.

So Malfoy kept his distance, walking around the store, information about her racing through his mind. He continued to be amazed, awed, and silenced by this young woman, but she had no need to find _that _out.

As she walked through the doors of _Monday Afternoon_, her favorite store in all of Hogsmead, Ginny felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. She raised a hand to itch it, willing herself to take deeper breaths, as it suddenly became very hard to breathe. Turning around slowly to look at a second shelf, she glanced down the aisle and saw no one. When the feeling didn't fade away, she dropped a journal she had been fingering on the other side of the aisle and bent down, taking her time to pick it up. There was no one on that side of the aisle either, and Ginny felt her cheeks burn bright pink, matching the color of her scalding ears, at her paranoia.

Today, she was wearing a mid-thigh denim skirt made from a pair of old jeans under a pair of nylons and black knee-high socks. For a top, she wore one of Ron's long-sleeved white button-up shirts, and her hair was in a high ponytail. She wore a red and gold scarf that she had knit herself under her Hogwarts robe and a worn black cloak.

It was one week before Christmas vacation, the last Hogwarts visit to Hogsmead before the New Year, and the weather had certainly harmonized with the season. Everyone anticipated a heavier snowfall upon the castle, but there was only a flurry of soft flakes that melted on contact with the ground. The temperature, however, had dropped since the beginning of December, and now, it seemed, it had reached an all-time low.

Winter had never been a very good season for Ginny. It seemed that, while she found herself enjoying work outside of class, the teachers seized the two-week break to load on assignment after assignment, which only frustrated and overwhelmed her. She couldn't accomplish things when she was weakened like that, when she was distracted, when Tom would be at his strongest within her.

And the holidays, especially Christmas, New Years, and Valentines, in succession, only served to remind her that she had no one to share them with, not a friend and most certainly not a boyfriend. She _did_ have Ron, but she was not his priority over the holidays, nor did she want herself to be. She had decided earlier, in bed, staring at the wine-colored canopy, that Malfoy really didn't count as company, since she technically didn't invite him, but she couldn't deny that she enjoyed his attention and that she wanted more, which was odd in itself.

The prickling was fainter as she left _Monday Afternoon_ empty handed and walked to a small tavern across the street. She wasn't as worried as she was before because now she had a clear view through the front windows of each store. She read _The Daily Prophet _that she had taken off an empty table, not looking for anything in particular, but noted the more interesting articles while absentmindly stirring her hot chocolate.

Yesterday, Malfoy had approached Professor Corran, resident Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts about the term paper that the sixth years had written. He was interested in reading a certain one, and wondered if he could see it. She asked if he would be staying over the holidays, and he replied that he would. That would be a perfect time to come in and read it, she informed him, and only asked that he tell her in advanced so she'd know which one to grade first. Her eyebrows slowly raised higher and higher as he told her the name and she bit her lips to hold back a question. Malfoy was relieved and almost grateful; the last thing he needed was probing questions from a teacher with a sudden suspicious interest in him. She agreed and located the lengthy report to begin grading.

Now that Malfoy had secured the paper, he began to cautiously study Ginny. He would find out about this Tom Riddle person who grew up to be Lord Voldemort. He would find out how he affected her and how she dealt with it day after day.

As he watched her, he began to realize that she was drawn into herself, closed and introverted. She avoided eye contact with passing students and teachers, and opted to stare at her reflection in her shiny brass plate than chat with peers around her at mealtimes. Ginny, he understood, had locked herself inside a prison, a fortress where her only defense was withdrawal. She kept to herself, burying herself in her work, excelling in all of her classes due to refined work and countless hours spent studying.

'Maybe', he thought as he twirled a quill in his hand, 'She pretended to not exist so that people would forget she was there.'

But her efforts seemed to be in vain, to him at least. She was easy to spot, with fiery red hair that shone like gleaming rubies and creamy pale skin that complimented, rather than clashed with her hair. She was tall, slim, and had grown to become very, very attractive, Malfoy decided one day. Her scrawny and awkward body had grown into a sixteen-year old woman with soft curves from her shoulders to her chest, with a small indention of a stomach and slim hips, leading to her thighs and long legs. But her face had lost its radiant, healthy glow and her angelic smile when she left the Chamber. Her face now had the consistency of a flickering candle, shining sometimes and almost extinguished at others; Tom had stolen her smile and replaced it with a sad, depressing smirk when she did try at all.

But Malfoy was only being a guy, and he was only observing. He didn't have any _real_ feeling extending past admiration, slight jealousy, and limited tolerance for the red-haired girl. He certainly didn't like her and didn't want to dwell on her any more than necessary, but coaxing her out of her shell and stealing her secret, along with her story, would take more than a weekend.

Apparently, Tom's presence inside her hadn't caused her to grow a third eye or tentacles, only stealing her glow, her happiness, her love for life and taking them for his own.

Malfoy walked into the small shop, not knowing what to find. He tried hard to imagine what Weasley would look at and admire as he meandered around the store. He stopped; eyeing a display of quills arranged elegantly on shelves on the wall and gathered three eye-catching quills. He moved onto another aisle, this one filled with blank journals. A soft red leather journal with gold clasps and pages caught his eye; the combination of scarlet and gold was almost _attractive_ together. These feathers would look lovely against the cover of this new journal, and a new, elegant fire colored crystal on a small black leather choker would look more than lovely against the creamy pale skin of her neck.

**Wishful thinking, Ginny,** a caressing voice taunted in her ear, moving as fluidly as the wind. **No one was looking at you**, he reassured her.** Nobody _notices _you**, he scolded. He took on a more cunning, sharper edge to his words and Ginny felt a small lump gather in the back of her throat.

_It wasn't wishful thinking, I know that. You wishing that I thought it was wishful thinking is rather wishful thinking in itself. _She congradulated herself on her wittiness.

She stirred her hot chocolate faster and raised it to her lips to take a drink.

Her hands were shaking, ever so slightly.

**Cold? I think not. We're not scared, Ginny, are we? Of me? Why, I'm harmless. _You're_ the one you should be worried about. It's not healthy to hear voices in your head.**

_It's not healthy to be possessed by evil, either, but what am_ I _s'posed to do about that?_

The chocolate ran down her throat, and she could feel its heat spread down to the very tips of her toes, though fading fast. She grimaced and wished for warmth that would last longer, like an embrace or even a kiss.

**Tsk tsk Ginny, you really mustn't be so rude, you might hurt my feelings.** She was not so caught up in the sudden darkness of the room that the sarcasm in his voice passed her. Ginny pulled her cloak tighter around her to stop the cold from reaching her, but it spread from the inside out, numbing her.

_Stop it_, she tried to order, bowing her head and wincing as though she were in great pain. _Go away. You're not wanted, Tom._

**We both know the truth, Ginny - must you force me to spell it out for you? You keep me around, you hold onto me because _I'm_ the only thing you know. I'm the only thing that's constant, I'm the only one who _talks _to you. You poured yourself into me, and you were willing to do whatever I wanted, as long as I'd be your 'friend'. Remember, Ginny? _Oh, Tom, I'll do anything for you. You're my only friend here; you're the only one I can really trust._** Every chuckle of his laughter was like a rock that hit her back, tearing open a new wound over skin that never fully healed.

Dark spots began appearing in the corner of her eyes, a sign that she would faint soon, and there, Tom could tell her whatever he pleased and she could do nothing but take it all in. She tried to steady her short sharp breaths into long, easy flowing ones but wished for a distraction, a knight that would rescue her right now.

_That was then - I've changed. That was all a mistake, a misspoken word and misplaced trust. It's not my fault, you deceived me into trusting and believing you, you vile power-hungry pig. Don't you _dare_ try to tell me this was my fault._

**I was your only friend. I was your only confidant. I am the only one who can give you faith enough to continue living; you are nothing without me.**

The lump slowly grew larger and Ginny swallowed while her eyes became painfully salty. Her heart pounded inside her like a large drum and a loud roaring sound ripped through her head. She knew she was slipping away, and needed something to grasp onto.

_I have ... I have Malfoy._

He would count, but only for now. She needed someone now, a friend that she could imagine. Tom couldn't say things that weren't true now, even if they were true then.

**He is no friend.**

_No more than you were._

She closed her eyes as tears welled in the corners, and tried to visualize him, her temporary strong hold. His hair was ironically the color of angelic haloes, which she envisioned. She breathed her first steady breath deeply; his pale skin made only brighter surrounded by the dark and clouds that she imagined Tom to be.

**You are foolish, Ginny, just like a little naïve child. Too trusting, too optimistic ...**

_You're _dead_, Tom. I may be hurting and hiding, but I am living and breathing and I ..._

"Is this seat taken?"

Ginny's head snapped up to see Malfoy's hand on the chair across the table from her, his eyebrows raised as if he was frozen in position.

Today, he wore a pair of loose black pants and a green pullover, offsetting his pale skin. His silver hair was brushed back in its normal fashion, clearing his face. He had only a black cloak, with no scarf, Ginny noted. In the hand that was not resting on the cafe's chair clutched a small paper bag whose name Ginny could not read.

"No," she muttered, wondering why her? - why him? - why now?

"We seem to be running into each other a lot, now, Weasley, don't we?" he asked, pulling the chair back and stepping around it.

"That we do," she said in a low voice, daring herself to continue the stare down between them. She found his steely eyes most attractive, their color flashing like a metal sword in the sun. His intense eyes cleared her murky thoughts like a lighthouse beam pierced darkness and fog.

She watched him sit down in the chair and place crinkled bag on the table calmly, as though meeting her in a café like such was an everyday occurrence. She looked at the brown wrapping, catching a 'O', 'N', and the words 'Day' and 'Noon' written in fancy script. Since when had Malfoy shopped at _The Monday Afternoon_? Odd.

Noticing her fixation and curiosity on the bag, Malfoy said, rather pleased, "Oh, just finishing a bit o' hols shopping before break."

"I see."

They lapsed into silence as Draco ordered a drink from a pretty waitress and Ginny went back to reading _The Daily Prophet_. He flirted shamelessly with her as she looked for reasons to stay by their table, although he did send some concerned looks towards Ginny's bent head. He didn't want her to think that he had come over to her table only to flirt, which was what she was probably thinking anyway.

"Are you staying at Hogwarts over Christmas break, Weasley?" he asked conversationally. She looked up at him, small pieces of hair falling out of her ponytail and framing her face. She looked at the pieces with irritation and brushed it behind her ear. Malfoy bit the top part of his lip, uncertain of the emotion that that simple look had caused him to feel.

"I believe so. My parents are going to visit Bill and Fluer in the French backcountry, so I'll be stuck here with Ron." She almost made a face, but decided against it. "Are you?" she asked politely, breaking away to take a sip of hot chocolate. Her long fingernails looked as though they were dipped in melted gold and shimmered in Malfoy's eye. His eyes became fixed on her perfect hands, long fingers with graceful movements and gold fingertips.

"Yes." There was a break in the conversation as Draco's drink arrived. He dipped a long finger into his cup and pulled it out shaking, wiping it on a napkin. Ginny allowed herself a smirk.

"Are you one much for snow?" he asked spontaneously, knowing the answer.

"No," she sighed, running a slender finger around the ceramic rim of her mug, her eyes running in small circles as she watched. "Winter is too depressing for me," she paused, then said, "Everything dies."

Malfoy's hands formed fists, hard as rocks. This was the second time she had mentioned death that he had heard of in the entire three meetings that they had. This was not good. He shot her a worried look but she did not look especially depressed or enthused.

She looked absolutely neutral.

"What season _do_ you like?" he asked, not wanting to dwell. He took a sip of his drink, which had cooled down considerably since he had first ordered it.

"Summer," she replied without missing a beat. She did not expand, but instead counter-questioned him.

"Autumn," he replied easily. "Everything's changing, and the colors all match one another. It's so scenic and peaceful that it's almost painful to watch them fade away. Besides," he added, "Every good astronomy student knows that autumn is when the air is the clearest at night."

"Is astronomy your favorite subject, Malfoy?" she asked, curious and not just being polite.

He shrugged. "I like looking up at the stars," he said. She nodded her head.

"They _are_ bloody beautiful, aren't they?" she agreed, looking him straight in the eye and cocking her head, waiting for his answer. Malfoy bit his tongue to avoid voicing a rather sincere, romantic, and potentially embarrassing thought. He bit down hard.

He nodded and tried not to wince, forcing down a drink, almost draining his large mug.

"Do you go stargazing often?" she asked.

"When I can find the time," he said, inwardly cursing himself for his moment of weakness.

"What's your favorite planet?" She watched him bite his lip as his eyes moved from her to her red hair, and she felt her cheeks warm up in self-consciousness.

"Mars," he answered to her hair as though enchanted by its color. The sound of his low voice sent shivers down her spine, and Ginny felt uncomfortable, as though she was treading through a part of herself and emotions that hadn't been traveled through before. Part of her wished that he'd stop and leave her, and the other begged him to continue.

"The Roman god of anger, jealousy, and war, a coward but unbelievably brave in battle. It's fiery and attractive, forbidden and dangerous, cold but burns with a freezing fire. It's inhabitable, and yet very alluring, it's forbidden landscape becoming desirable. Bright and shining in the sky, closest to earth."

Malfoy strangely found it easy to talk sensually about and to Ginny, using her as Mars' higher meaning. He fought to keep his voice under control as he spoke to her, but the words came easily to him.

He knew the instant he saw her face that he had said the wrong thing. He was being too bold, and that might scare her, or at least her give her reason to be concerned about his intentions. He wanted her to feel she was appreciated, beautiful, and admired, earning her confidence and trust ? that she'd open up a bit more. The one thing that could ruin his plans was now the rousing of her suspicion.

Ginny wondered worriedly if he was still talking about the planet or something ? or someone ? else. She placed an elbow on the table and held her chin with her thumb and placing a knuckle under her lips, leaning down and cracking it with a loud pop. She nodded slightly, her head bobbing up and down, silently absorbing his words.

Moving his hand slowly, Malfoy reached for his shopping bag on the table and flipped it over, trying to appear nonchalant as he finished off his drink. Setting the empty mug on the table, he reached into his pocket and extracted a few galleons. Placing them on the table, he rose and pushed in his chair.

"That should be enough to cover your drink too, Weasley," he said, nodding at her with a knowing smirk on his handsome face. He turned around and walked out of the café. He was out of sight when Ginny realized that he had left without his bag. She stood up to grab it and return it to him when she noticed writing on the back as she held it in a shaking hand.

_Merry Christmas, Weasley_, was all it said.

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please review!**

**Much thanks to reviewers Mynuet (**thanks! I check out the Fire and Ice archive regularily, and I'll try to join when I have a spare moment to upload my fics. Great site, finally glad there's a D/G shrine that'll be updated and has a pretty big following.**) Miaka Summers (**thanks, I'm glad you think they're in character. I try pretty hard to make the scenes real to the reviewers**), Mary, Silvia (**sorry it took so long to update! Thanks!**), ESP, Monique (**thanks, I hope that I won't disappoint you**), Hplova4eva, and Nuwanda.**


	6. Crushed

**Disclaimer****: I don't own any of the characters or places mentioned in this story nor the song excerpt the beginning and am making no money off of this chapter. ****Aurhor's Note****: Yay! I updated after a year of no fanfiction. Sorry, life and school kinda caught up with me plus I had boy issues kinda… I guess you could call it that. Whatever. I hope this chapter blows your socks off and that you are thorually excited for Draco and Ginny in chapters to come. This is my favorite unfinished story and I look forward to how it might end. Thanks for being patient and reading!  
****If you would like to read some of the non-fiction teenage angst I've written recently, check out http/musescornerke. - I'm Dan there.**

_Sometimes I have good days and it's good to be me  
__Sometimes I get the best of insecurity  
__And it's quite alright to be the one and only  
__But today I feel like the one and lonely_

_(Oh, the one and lonely)  
__We all have bad hair days  
__Those nothing good about me days  
__Just keep moving on cuz they'll be gone  
__And we'll still be here going on  
__We have our yesterdays  
__No lunch cuz the jeans don't fit days  
__Just keep moving on cuz they'll be gone  
__And we'll still be here going on  
__- The One and Lonely, Superchick_

**Wanted VI  
****Crushed**

What a terrible wish it was, to wish to be normal. To wish for stability, for harmony, and just for once, to not hear voices in her head.  
That, above all things, was what she wanted for Christmas.  
How dreadful, she knew, to want to become generic, to not stand out, and to have no other reputation than "Oh, she's nice." But after her first year, and by sheer luck, Ginny Weasley began to wonder if being different, if being special, was really all it was cracked up to be. Now, she had realized, that normalcy was underrated and underappreciated.

The ruby red stone glittered around her neck reflecting the light from the crackling fireplace. Her dull knitting needles clicked together as they wove over and around each other almost on their own, as she let her tired mind drift elsewhere. Pearl-colored yarn trailed over one of her armrests, green over the other, and together, they met and mingled on her midsection, intertwining themselves with clicks of the knitting needles.  
One, she was well aware of, did not simply wake up being normal; normal being what everyone else was, and what she desperately wanted to be. She knew that she must work at it until she could truthfully say that she was just like everyone else. Exchanging gifts was a normal enough activity for this time of season, she rationalized when she first started knitting. And so, she decided that she would be polite and return the favor - complete the gift-giving circle that Malfoy had initiated with her.

Having limited financial resources, she decided to sacrifice time that would've been wasted anyway and knit him a scarf. It was perfect for her situation: a completely appropriate and neutral thank-you gift that sought nothing more from their somewhat platonic relationship.  
How surprised she had been when she had opened the bag he had left and seen _his _gift. Ginny knew that her handmade gift couldn't hold a candle to the pricey items he had purchased for her. She found them to be of much use to her, the quills making her holiday essays a breeze to begin and complete. Words seemed to flow from her brain down through her arm and fingers and ink themselves through the stem of the pointed feather tip, and she delightfully finished her homework early. As silly as it sounded, the quills almost inspired her.  
This, in and of itself, was a relief. Her greatest weakness came when she felt completely overwhelmed, hopeless and depressed. When her work seemed to be without end was when the mantra "I'll never get it all done" began to change to "I can't ever get it done", slowly morphing itself into "I can't do anything at all." Tom's laughter could only fill and echo in such hollowness and he reveled in her feelings of worthlessness. It was hard to climb out of such a hole that she had made for herself, and it was often with tears and lonely nights. And now, thanks to Malfoy, nothing of the sort would be happening.  
But the necklace … the necklace was different. It was a beautiful fire red crystal, striking and simple on a black leather choker. Alone, it was elegant and it was classy. But when she wore it, it made her red hair belong on her head and her freckles coordinate with the red and black. And how it made her feel! She _felt_ all those things when she wore it: elegant, classy, beautiful, desirable - seductive, even. It gave her confidence, to feel the flat backside of it hit her chest when she moved and have its now familiar weight wrapped around her neck. Having been given the necklace - by a handsome boy, no less - made her feel special, and proud to merit such a beautiful gift. This, she reasoned, was a normal thing.  
She set down her needles and touched the crystal, wrapping her hands around it and squeezing it. The necklace had personality, and it had promise. It was one of those gifts a boy gave to a girl who meant something to him, and while Ginny tried to suppress it, she secretly rejoiced. And in the next moment, she would chide herself for thinking such inappropriate things about her and Malfoy, mentally thank him for it, and resume working.

In her extra time, she began to journal in the blank writing book Malfoy had given her. She was careful to keep her thoughts and words positive, as well as her attitude towards things. She was determined to not give Tom any leeway into her spirit, into her soul, into her thoughts, words, actions and life. For the most part, it worked. Occasionally, she'd slip and fall into the chasm of darkness and back into the Chamber of Secrets, but it began to get easier to avoid those holes and continue on her daily struggle towards normalcy. And this holiday, it finally seemed within grasp.

Tonight, she resolved in the comfy armchair, she would be strong. She would be focused and motivated and _driven_. She would step away from the darkness before she would have to swim out from it, drive away the fog in her mind before it encircled and consumed her. Tonight, she had a purpose, and she was given purpose when she was born, and she would not lose it. **_If only for tonight_**, she scrawled on the blank page of today, **_I'll be strong.  
_**It was hard, and she knew it would be. The chants that echoed inside her head were too clichéd to be truly comfortable and she found herself doubting herself. 'Fuel for Tom's fire,' she'd think before starting up another corny self-motivated chant. 'I refuse to be burned'.  
'This is ridiculous,' she would tell herself. And in the next moment, 'I refuse to be burned.'

**Ah ah ah, you missed a stitch,** Tom whispered inside her ear as her fingers slipped in surprise. **May the burning begin,** he said with a cruel smile.  
_Go away_, she said firmly, untying her stitches to repair it. _I refuse to be burned tonight.  
_**You say you want normalcy,** he said, ignoring her _burning_ chants. **Normal**Her cheeks bloomed pink in the warm room.** A Weasley, giving gifts to a Malfoy? You think this is normalcy? **he attacked. She paused and slowly began to sink into his pool of words, watching herself mentally drown.  
_I'm returning a favor_, she said, less than sure and a little more than hollow. _It's only right for me to do this. _Her hand trembled as she resumed knitting, forgetting about the beautiful necklace around her neck.  
**Don't be foolish; he doesn't expect anything from you. You're a poor Weasley - you have nothing to offer and nothing to give that he doesn't already have nor need. Though I'm sure this scarf will burn nicely in the Slytherin common room fire. **An image of her scarf lying over a stack of flaming logs materialized in her head, a bored Draco watching it as it burned and smoked. She bit her lip as the ice began to grow, first in her stomach, moving towards her rapidly beating heart, like a deer right before it dies.  
_I don't care_ she tried as he began to laugh. She could almost feel him caressing her chin. **Oh, but you do, Ginny, you do. You yourself know that he expects nothing of you, and yet, you insist on going through all the work to knit it for him. You're devoting yourself sadly to this undertaking, though why? Could it be…?  
**_No, _she said more firmly. Her feet uncrossed themselves and hit the floor firmly as she braced herself. Her jaw hurt from grounding against each other and her hands made painful fists in resistance.  
**Could it be that you secretly want to see him again, to give it to him? Is that it, Ginny? That you're happy he gave you such pricey gifts, that he took time to select them and spend time with you? You think that he _likes _you, that he wants to _be with you_? **She bit her lip and the knitting needles fell to her stomach, abandoned. She shut her eyes against…  
**You're disgusting, Ginny. You want to think that he bought you those things because he likes you. You want to think that he's spending time with you because you enjoy spending time with him. You're knitting this sad, pathetic scarf because you hope he'll be happy that you made it for him, and you actually think he'll wear it. You want to think all this because you like him yourself.  
**… against everything. Tom's words fell like bricks against her body, crushing the air out of her lungs, bits and pieces falling down her throat and she choked and struggled to breathe. For all she was worth, she could not fight away the darkness that had encircled her, and now, there was no Malfoy to rescue her, to be her bright, shining knight.  
Tears spilled out, painfully wedging themselves from her eyes and spilling onto her freckled cheeks. The beautiful necklace that made her so confident lay atop her heaving chest, forgotten and cold. She could see Tom's presence leave her like thick fog dissipate only to reveal the nighttime. She was crying not because she was hurt or broken or in anger or rage, but because he was completely and totally right.  
So much for strength.

_Strength, Ginny_, she reminded herself, clenching her teeth before nervously taking a sip of pumpkin juice from her goblet. She could afford to lose her strength and resolve in front of Tom while she sat in the middle of her common room knitting. Each tear had become her secret, and she was fine with that. Now… now there would be no tears. There would be no breaking hearts, no trembling lips and darkness, and no Tom. She could not afford to lose her composure in front of Draco Malfoy. She winced when she saw her fingers tremble as they placed the goblet back on the table.  
Right now, strength seemed like too much to ask.  
_I am a rock. _The mantra sounded corny and foreign in her mind, but she pretended that she was one for propriety's sake - it wouldn't hurt to try _anything_, she nervously rationalized.

Her stomach clenched itself. She was done with her meal; in fact, it had never even truly begun. She had no appetite tonight, had nothing other than fear and wavering courage and cheesy positive thoughts that her mum and dad used to tell her after her brothers had picked on her. Now that it was her voice repeating them and not her parents', they failed to have the confident, reassuring ring she was sure they once held. This failed to make her feel any better. She had desperate hopes in the back of her mind which she mentally waved away with more realistic thoughts, and she tried to be prepared. She had a finished and folded winter scarf in her lap, an empty stomach and -  
- She didn't have time to think about what she did and didn't have. Malfoy had risen from his spot, finished with his dinner, and began to leave the Great Hall through its massive southern door. Her objective, her mission, began to near closer and closer, and it began and ended here: with her first step towards him.  
_Don't be a chicken_, she thought. _Not here._

It would've been so easy to lose her nerve and stay seated, or grab a biscuit. It would've been easier for her to simply owl it to him, maybe even send it so that it timely arrived Christmas morning, and would have been just as acceptable for her to do that.  
Acceptable, she reminded herself. Not proper. Not right. Presenting it to him and thanking him, face-to-face, was the proper and correct thing to do. That was the least she could do for him.  
Her determination grew with the logic. She would do the right thing, she resolved, taking the scarf from her lap into her arms.  
And so she stood up.

Ginny knew that Tom was correct. There was nothing she could do to disprove him without lying to him and to herself. And lying would accomplish nothing, other than to add to the list of names he could call her.  
And so, to prevent the harassment and shame that would most likely ensue from his self-made revelation, she did the only thing that she could: she accepted it.  
She didn't swallow those poisonous words and allow herself to die quietly. She wrestled with it through her tears as she brushed her teeth that night, through the next day when she saw him during breakfast and then again at dinner. But no matter how much she tried to justify, explain, and abolish her feelings, the bottom line remained: her feelings, however irrational, stayed.  
And so, wearily, she collapsed into bed having given up her fight to somehow change them, warp them, or reword them. There was nothing more she could do, having exhausted her options and herself, her heart racing wildly like a rabid dog before its death. The only thing about this arrangement, she thought grimly as she drifted into sleep, was that she could now have the satisfaction of saying _So__ what?_

Truthfully, it wasn't like this was a completely irrational feeling, this attraction towards Malfoy. True, she and him did have a history, and it wasn't always pleasant - however, recently, he had been a perfect gentleman and an almost friend, and Ginny found him to be incredibly handsome. His white-blond hair emitted an aura of dignified grace, and he walked like a boy who was told all of his life that he was special, and that he had a purpose. Ginny envied that walk, his confident stride, and the way in which he carried himself. She was drawn to it, and it was attractive. So it therefore made sense, she thought, that she would find the owner of this confidence, this - this walk, attractive, and that she would eventually become romantically attracted to him.  
_Besides_, he had been a real sweetheart when he had repaired her torn report. Try as she might, she had trouble forgetting that act of kindness, admitting to herself that she had no desire to forget that kind of treatment. It wasn't just the act that was so special, it was how he made her feel: like she was special, worth defending, worth repairing. And though they didn't always like each other, they didn't openly hate each other now. They were civil, almost friendly. His behavior towards her was giving her a sense of false hope, but she didn't really care anymore.  
And what was the big deal if she liked him? Who cares, she wondered, chewing on this morning's toast. And more importantly, who knew? - apart from her and Tom, who almost didn't count anyway. No one knew, not her brother, or Harry, and definitely not Malfoy, and she planned to keep it that way.  
Besides, of late, Malfoy had been rather pleasant company, and at times, rather handy to have around. It wasn't completely wrong of her to enjoy it and desire more of it, and maybe even admire and desire the companion; was it?

Oh, but why did it have to be him!

**Author's Note****: Thanks to everyone for being so patient as I took some months to turn this out! I hope it was to your liking and you're excited for the next chapter, as I am. D 2000 some words of D/G goodness, yeah?  
****Special thanks to reviewers DeaDTape, queenahems, Sunday-Morning (**Remember When? Uhh… the inspiration for a happy ending isn't flowing on that story yet. My beta keeps bugging me for an update, but it's never there to be what I want it to be - yet. I hope I'll finish it someday… D please forgive me for my long hiatus.**), kneh13, Eve Granger, Clarinet Girl Lyss (**thanks for all the advice**), Strangely Bitter, Arella Hallo, Slytherinbab05, danny10, princess cythera, march of flames (**that's a good band, do you like them?**), Mary, stroms-tornado, jojo, brokentoy19, Eragon Dragon Ridger, bigreader, kittybro, silvia, Jade Summers, and Cinnamon Angel, all who reviewed chapter 5.**

**Thanks for reading, please review!**


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